Now, the chances of my brother getting married are remote at best.
He has been married and divorced twice before and the dissolution of
both marriages has left a sour taste in his mouth for both the ritual
and the tradition.

Instead, he lives with a woman who moved from California with him. They
have been together for eight or nine years. She has two children from
a previous marriage. A 20 year old autistic son and a ten year old whom
Ian has known since he was a baby and who he is raising as his son.

It is a very marital situation even if a marriage is not about to happen.

So why did I dream I was at his wedding?

Is it because my friend Sabina will be getting married in August and
I am the maid of honor?

Is it because my favorite path through Forest Park has taken me past
multiple wedding parties taking photos in the month of June?

Is it because Potential, the new woman in my life does not believe in
marriage while I think it is an essential human right that is denied
LGBT people?

I don’t know.

But here is the dream . . .

I was asked to usher and welcome guests into the after party. Somehow
I forgot that I was supposed to do this and went to befriend someone
I did not know who had wandered in.

So already, in my brother’s eyes, I had fucked up.

The party itself is a blur except there was a lot of really good, catered
Italian food. The kind of exquisite rustic food that is deceptively
expensive to procure.

At the end of the party, we discovered that more than twice as many
people had attended than planned and that my brother was upset about
this.

I wasn’t sure why since in the dream he didn’t seem to want
a small gathering and didn’t have a lot of friends to invite.
So somehow there were strangers or very casual friends there.

At the end of the party, I went up to my brother and his partner and
they both seemed deflated. Not just tired but depressed. And the spoken
source of the depression was the dessert. It was some kind of lemon
thing with blueberries that had fallen short of their expectations.
And with all of these extra guests, they were also upset that the event
and the dessert had been so expensive.

There was no joy expressed about the actual occasion, only a discussion
of expenses and disappointing desserts and an implication that I had
fallen down on the job by deserting my ushering post.